All the Right Moves
by TinaBanina96
Summary: "The King of Spades is but a naïve child and the Queen a jaded fool." "Hush, mon cher. Do you not realize the consequence if your words were to fall on the wrong ears?" "It means naught to me." All he can see in the man in gold - but does the man in gold see him? Cardverse AU.
1. One

**Title:** All The Right Moves**  
****Author: **TinaBanina96**  
****Summary:** "The King of Spades is but a naïve child and the Queen a jaded fool." "Hush, mon cher. Do you not realize the consequence if your words were to fall on the wrong ears?" "It means naught to me." All he can see in the man in gold. Cardverse AU.

* * *

**AN: ****I can't sleep, it's almost 3am, and I have an exam at 9:30. Here, have some Cardverse FrUK. Just to clarify, not a part of my ****_Songverse Continuity_****, though inspired by the song of the same name by ****_One Republic._**

**DISCLAIMER: ****Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya**

* * *

**One**

The ballroom is crowded, shining with the light of a thousand candles, reflected off bejewelled dancers in heavy dresses and tailored coats. Each one twirls to the melody of a small orchestra, masks set firmly on faces young and old.

It is all a bore, such a bore to the man in blue as he is led around the floor in the arms of the taller, younger, man.

"You look beautiful." whispers his partner before him quietly in that cheerful voice of his, a strangely awed look in the bright blue eyes shining behind the black mask.

He smiles softly at the flattery, face composed so that his partner will not see how blank he feels, how he is barely hearing his words.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He repeats the words (a simple repetition, not a reply) and imbues them with warmth that is not from his heart, not from his soul.

His partner smiles, those sky blue eyes lighting up brightly before he is whisked away by some diplomat needing some useless favour.

He does not notice. He is blind to all the sparkles and lights now. Surrounded, day in, day out, by the excess of wealth, he is desensitized and oh so bored. He can keep the smile on all night, but behind the mask his own eyes barely see a thing.

There is nothing in the room that interests him anymore, except for _him._

He cannot help but watch the golden one who flits around the ballroom like he owns the place, like he has his own light. He is the light.

The brightest flame burning in the room of a thousand candles.

He has been watching the golden man all night, tracking his every movement with his own green eyes. There is something about him, something about the way all in his path seemed to move for him.

A butterfly moving from bright flower to bright flower, the most beautiful among them.

It is a surprise when for but a moment he takes his eyes off the golden man, and in that instance the butterfly disappears amongst the crowd.

He suppresses a sigh only to feel a presence behind him.

"Bitterness is not a colour you wear well, mon cher."

The voice is honey - sweet, rich, and low – that sends a small shiver down his spine. He turns to face the owner.

"Who do you believe yourself to be? Strutting around like the King of Hearts."

A soft laugh.

"No, I believe he is over there." he replies, gesturing lightly towards where a tall blond man is fixatedly watching a brunette flit cheerfully from person to person.

"You are one to talk, mon cher. You remind me ever so much of the Queen of Spades."

The golden man leans in closer, lowering his voice until it is but a mere whisper in his ear. He can feel the man's breath, hot on the side of his face.

"Only you could not possibly be, since it is known throughout the four kingdoms that our dear Queen he never leaves his King. For how could he, when the young King keeps him clasped so tightly to his well built side?"

He scoffs at the retort, turning his head so that they are eye to eye. The man's eyes are blue – a dark blue, glaring cold sapphires wrought among all that gold.

"The King of Spades is but a naïve child and the Queen a jaded fool."

"Hush, mon cher. Do you not realize the consequence if your words were to fall on the wrong ears?"

"It means naught to me."

"You are a brave man. A little foolish, perhaps?"

"The Royal Pair can do nothing. Figureheads and icons – that's all they are."

He can practically feel the slow smile that curves its way up the man's lips.

"How very cynical of you."

The man extends a hand, fingers outstretched, the epitome of a courteous gentleman. He looks down at it with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Care to dance, mon cher?"

"Do try to keep up."

He tries to keep the smirk off his face as he takes the proffered hand. The golden man gives a chuckle.

"I assure you, I will."

He feels the golden man place his other hand on the small of his back, and they start to dance as the orchestra starts a new piece. His feet start to move, and he is guided around the ballroom floor.

"So, pray tell, if you are not Hearts' royalty, then who are you?"

"Tsk, tsk. Is that not the point of the masquerade? To conceal our identities, and inspire a sense of camaraderie among the nobility of the four kingdoms, or so the official invitation on Spades'-blue card did say."

"Or in other words, you will not tell me."

"I do not think I need to."

"Arrogant, aren't you?"

"Some say it is what makes me so intriguing."

He can't help but smile a little as they twirl amongst the crowd, another beautifully dressed pair. The man is right. Tonight is a night of mystery, to let go of any official identities.

"Your wit astounds me. Perhaps you are a Joker."

"I am no more a Joker than a sad clown. Besides, we both know that one of our precious jokers is much too young to attend."

"And the other?"

He sees the man's eyes dart sideways in response, and he follows his gaze. A couple are dancing, together near the orchestra. He can't make out what the woman is saying, but the dark haired man lets out a small laugh.

Looking upon the pair is a man in black, silver hair glowing in the candlelight. There is a scowl plastered on his face beneath the domino mask, though whether directed at the man or the woman, he doesn't know.

"I see. You are a perceptive man."

"Not perceptive enough."

"You know much about tonight's events."

"Something tells me you know even more."

He lets out a small, bitter laugh.

"I know nothing. If I was wise, I would not be here."

"Why not?"

"This. All of this. It means naught."

"An insult, to the great Spades Kingdom. Though, you are unafraid of their ire."

"I don't have the heart to be afraid of anything, anymore."

He has said too much, but the lady that is luck smiles upon him. His partner catches the uncertainty that flashes across his face, but does not comment.

They keep up the banter, harmless flirtations that should not lead to anything more. The strange sense of ease of being in the man's arms is comforting, though he takes care not to become attached.

"Mon cher, you have beautiful eyes."

He snorts. Beautiful eyes – he is told this so often that the compliment means nothing.

"How very trite. As if I have not heard that a thousand times."

"Mon cher, you must let me finish."

"What difference will that make?"

"Your eyes... They are quite deep, are they not? The green of a forest that has not been disturbed in hundreds of years, holding so many secrets. I knew one once, with eyes like yours."

The statement hits him hard. It's too familiar, hitting too hard to home.

Harmless, it is not.

"Your eyes are cold. A man who let everything he loved slip away, so now hides behind his bright facade."

He catches a slight frown on the man's face, before it is replaced with yet another seductive smile.

"I see those eyes of yours are not just part of a pretty face."

They spend the next few bars in silence, gaze held to the swells of the cello and the smooth soprano of the violin strings.

The music slows down, and the ballroom seems to dim. Perhaps it is his imagination

The song ends and they must part ways. He can hear his name being called through the crowd, and he ignores it.

The gold man smiles, yet another slow smile, but one that does not reach his eyes.

"Until we meet again." says the man, kissing him on the hand before letting go.

He turns and walks away, returns to the side of the bright-blue-eyed boy, whose smile burns bright with the light of the sun.

"I missed you!"

"I missed you too."

An absentminded reaction. He turns back to where he came from and looks, but the golden man is gone. Moved on to another flower, another brightly dressed dancer.

His heart breaks, for the second time.

* * *

**And what a oneshot of questions. Maybe one day I will elaborate. Tell me what you thought :)**


	2. Two

**AN: ****I was never planning to write a second part to this story, since I loved the kind of ambiguous ending to the first part. However, this universe somehow managed create itself in my head, and the characters wouldn't leave me alone. If you would like to keep this vaguely mysterious, then feel free not to read this part, as it is more story like, and less… whatever the first part was. I am terrified that this will ruin the feel of the story.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya**

* * *

**Two**

He awakes later than usual, and opens his eyes to see he is alone within the curtains of the canopy bed. The silk sheets on the left side are rumpled, but cold, and there is a note for him, scrawled hastily on what appears to be a ripped of portion of some scroll.

_"I decided to let you sleep, since you seemed so tired after last night. I have a meeting with the Finance Minister, so I will see you for lunch."_

The note is embellished with ink blots and a scribbled row of x's and o's, like the note of some child to their first love. He crumples it in one hand and parts the curtains of the bed with the other, stepping into the dim room.

As expected, there is a servant waiting, and he hands note off with a silent wave towards the door. The girl bows her head and leaves, and he is alone.

The room feels cold, though he's not sure why. Perhaps it is simply the colour scheme – all dark navy velvets and cerulean silks – or perhaps it is his imagination.

He pulls apart the heavy brocade curtains and the sun floods in, invading every crevice and bathing the room in what should be a warming glow. The room is brighter now, yet he shivers.

A glance out the windows shows him that the horses and carriages that filled the courtyard last night have departed, taking with them multitudes of exulted foreign nobility. There are only the cobblestones left now – not a trace of the festivities that ran long into the night.

For that, he is thankful.

The door opens and he turns quickly, moulding his face into a semblance of anger that he doesn't feel. To enter his chambers unannounced is forbidden, and one would be brave to break that rule.

He is prepared to scold, only to find that the intruder is someone whom he cannot rebuke.

"Arthur."

"Yao."

Even at this early hour, the Jack is composed – serene even – in flowing silken blue robes that pool at his feet. He shows no signs of any ill-effects caused by the previous night's revels, and his face gives no clue as to his reason for being here.

"It has been a long time since you have slept through the sun rise."

"It has been a long time since I have needed to."

"Did the events of last night tire you out so?" Yao tilts his head to the side, golden eyes never once betraying his thoughts. A strand of dark hair falls out of his intricately braided hairstyle, and obscures one eye.

"But of course." he replies, never losing eye contact. "How could they not?"

"You were never one for parties, Arthur."

"It is my duty to entertain."

"As the Queen, you are correct."

Yao watches him, and he watches Yao. It has been a long time since they were alone, a long time since he has spoken to the Jack in private.

So much of his time is dedicated to other matters (other people) that he has no time to speak to even his own Jack.

Minutes pass in silence, and he takes the time to turn away from Yao. He doesn't hear the sound of footsteps, though that is no indication of whether the man has left or not. Yao has always been light on his feet.

"I am worried about you, Arthur."

He scoffs, turning back to the Jack of Spades who has not moved from the doorway, seemingly rooted there by the silken lake around his feet. The fabric shimmers, a waterfall in the sunlight that comes through the window.

"Worried about me? You have no reason to be."

He raises an eyebrow.

He has everything, absolutely everything he could want, at the tips of his fingers. There is not a thing he desires, nor a thing he craves, for he can have anything. Nothing could interest him now – he repeats this to himself, a mantra in his head.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

"The sun has set, Arthur."

The words are almost whispered, and for a second he is not sure whether or not the words are simply his own imagination _(but they can't be for he has no imagination anymore really why imagine when you have everything?)_.

He opens his mouth to reply but no words come out. It _has _been a long time – so long that he no longer knows how to respond to Yao's vague statements and porcelain mask. To be shut down so easily – it is something only the Jack can do to him.

"What is it that you want from me, Yao? For what reason have you come here?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

"The Joker is here."

And with those words, the Jack turns, robes trailing him in a river, leaving behind a barely there fragrance that brings back memories of poppy fields long ago.

He wonders why he has remembered.

It takes him a moment to put himself back into his normal frame of mind. Yao has always had a habit of confusing him, no matter how hard he tries not to be confused.

_The sun has set. The Joker is here._

The phrases echo in his mind as he closes the door, and goes to dress himself. His eyes barely register the rows and rows of expensive outfit after expensive outfit in his dressing room. It's all material – just plain material.

From the corner of his eye he spots the navy blue coat draped across a chair in the corner of the room. It's exquisite – velvet somehow interweaved with silver thread, like a coat made of the night sky itself. His mask lies on top of the haphazardly discarded coat.

Something horrendous flares up inside his chest and he walks over to the coat. He bundles in up in his arms and leaves the dressing room.

The fireplace in his chambers has not been used in months. It is the middle of summer – there has been no use for it – until now.

He throws the coat in, ignoring the small item that falls from the folds of fabric onto the floor in favour of finding matches.

As it starts to burn, he walks away. It is just a coat.

Yao was right.

He has never been one for parties, nor the outfits worn to them.

He steels his mind as he re-enters the dressing room.

_The Joker is here._

* * *

**I don't know why I'm doing this to myself. Here have more questions and confusion - and is that the faintest bit of plot I see?**


	3. Three

**AN: ****Welcome to the third instalment of Cardverse Confusion.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya**

* * *

**Three**

The hallways are empty in this part of the castle. They always are now, because that is how he has ordered them to be. No one is to tread these marble floors without an express purpose (like the servants that come to clean, only when he is not there), or his own explicit permission (unless they are Yao, or Alfred, because Yao is different and he cannot stop him and Alfred is… Alfred).

His footsteps fall silent, impact absorbed by the plush blue carpeting. The silence surrounds him softly, - a blanket, that keeps him safe, or perhaps smothers him softly.

The hallways never used to be empty in this part of the castle. But that is how they are, now.

Yao did not tell him the whereabouts of the Joker, but he can guess – no, he knows there is only one place that the Joker could possibly be. The fact that a servant was not the one to announce the Joker's presence had said a lot.

The door to his private study is ajar, and he steps inside carefully, closing it fully behind him.

"Did I wake you, Your Highness?"

The question carries with it the mocking tone of the Jokers. The Joker is turned away from him, peering out the window, but he can practically feel the smirk that the man must be wearing.

"You were not the one I expected." he replies, raising an eyebrow at the Joker's back. "Though, perhaps I should have."

"You know Peter's still training. Even if he wasn't, he -"

"He wouldn't wish to be in my presence."

"Nail on the head."

He feels a twinge of something-or-other tugging at his frozen heartstrings, but it is goes as soon as it arrives.

The Joker extends a pale arm to the side and beckons him with the hand that emerges from coal black sleeves. For once, he follows someone else's orders and steps forward, joining the man at the window.

"You must love this room."

"It is just a room."

"But it's got such a view. You can see almost the whole Kingdom, can't you? Even the next Kingdom over – if the peak of Mount Gem counts, anyway."

"Get to your point, Joker. There are matters I must attend to, for I am quite a busy man."

"So am I, your Highness."

For the first time, the Joker turns to look at him. The man's already red eyes are bloodshot, but completely focused. The hard gaze is disconcerting when seen with the rest of his face, with mouth so cockily raised at the corners.

"Why are you here? Unannounced, at the least. Had the Jack not found you - "

"I would have found you myself."

"Have you forgotten common courtesy?"

"You always used to say I was the rudest person you knew. Maybe I'm just living up to that."

"Enough with your joking, Joker."

"Don't snap at the guy doing you a favour, Your Highness."

"A favour?"

"A warning."

He shuts his mouth quickly. Lost for words twice in one morning – an altogether unfamiliar experience.

The Joker turns his head back to the window, eyes fixed on some point that he can't quite see.

"You were seen, Arthur."

The sudden change in the Joker's tone seems to drop the temperature of the room ten degrees. He is already living ice, but the comment freezes him more.

"Yesterday, Arthur. At the ball."

"I know not what you are saying." he lies with practiced ease. "I have done nothing wrong."

"You spoke to him. And they saw you."

"I know nothing of who I spoke too, or what I said – the masks ensured that."

The words flow from his tongue, carefully picked and crafted. Technically this is a truth – he had no certainty of who he did and did not speak to. Almost, but not certain.

"You're the Queen of Spades, now."

"And you, Gilbert, are a Joker and Yao is the Jack of Spades and the couple that you gazed so longingly after last night were the Jack and Queen of Clubs but what does that matter?"

A slight tensing in the Gilbert's arm tells him that his words are having the desired effect, but man does not turn around.

"This has nothing to do with me. Or Yao. Or anyone other than you and him. Peace is fragile. There are reasons that boundaries can't be crossed, that the borders of Kingdoms must forever be drawn clearly in the sand."

"Peace is what was celebrated last night. Are you saying it was a crime to fraternise outside of my colours? If so, arrest all the lords and ladies present last night, and arrest yourself as well."

"There's no point arguing. You're not stupid – anything but – and this isn't going anywhere good. I'm just here to warn you, for old times' sake. You'll be watched, from now on."

"Bu-"

"There's nothing I can do."

The Joker moves for the first time in a while, turning away from him. He turns with him, following the man with his eyes as he walks towards the door. Gilbert stops as he places a hand on the doorknob.

"You made a choice Arthur. Live with it."

And then the man is gone, dissolving into nothing with the magic of the Jokers, leaving only air and anger in his wake.

* * *

**No way is that an attempt at plot and foreshadowing (backshadowing?) I spy. Haha nope it's just me typing randomly at stupid o'clock. Leave me your criticism!**


	4. Four

**AN: ****So we've made it to a fourth chapter. Now I know why they say four is death in my culture – this chapter was ridiculously had to come up with an idea for, but lo and behold at three in the morning, I actually managed to come up with a plot!**

**DISCLAIMER: ****Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya**

* * *

**Four**

"This is nice, isn't it?"

The words slice through the air, louder than the clinks of forks and knives on plates of the finest porcelain. He looks up from his food.

"Pardon?"

"This is nice! Just us, having lunch together."

Just us. His eyes dart to the three guards behind Alfred, skim over the two maids waiting at the side of the room, and imagine they can see the butler standing behind him.

Just us indeed.

"It's lovely, dear." he smiles carefully, reflecting the grin on Alfred's youthful face. "Lunch is, as usual, exquisite."

"So what did you do this morning?"

"I was rather tired, so I slept in."

"No, after that. I saw Yao pass my study and asked if you were still asleep. He said you'd gone to meet with someone."

"Ah."

"Who?"

"No one important."

"Then tell me who?"

It seems that Alfred – dear, sweet, foolish Alfred – is determined to make this point. He wonders if perhaps Alfred suspects something, but dismisses the thought entirely. Alfred's pretty head is filled with the duties of a King – and from childhood, he has been trained not to meddle with the affairs of his Queen or Jack unless… no, this is simple-minded curiosity at play.

"If you must know, it was a Joker."

"Did Pe-"

"No!" he snaps, the word escaping his mouth too quickly to stop. The syllable is almost a shout, and he can see the surprise cross Alfred's face, because Arthur does not yell at Alfred.

The Queen does not bark at the King.

"Arthur…"

"My apologies." he clears his throat, composing himself. "You know I have asked you not to bring up the Black Joker."

"I wish you would just talk to me sometimes, Arthur."

He hates few things but Alfred's pity is one of them. He bites back the bile rising in the back of his throat and smiles sweetly.

"But whatever do you mean? We speak to each other plenty enough."

"I talk. You listen."

It is these moments of clarity and intelligence that Alfred exhibits that make him realise why he is king – but these moments are so far and few between that he cannot see the boy as more than a boy.

"There is nothing that needs to be discussed, dear."

"Why was the Red Joker here? He doesn't look often into our affairs. He's not responsible for our Kingdom of Spades"

There is a hint of panic in the King's day blue eyes, like oncoming storm clouds looking to cover the sky.

"We are… old acquaintances. It was a social call, nothing more."

The clouds dissipate and the sky clears and Alfred is once again happy.

"It's great to see you with friends! You're so often alone these days."

Alfred's voice sinks at the end of the innocent statement. He responds with a small curving of the lips, and drops his eyes back down to the plate in front of him.

He hears a handle turn and looks up to see one of the guards opening the door. He is less surprised than he should be to see Yao framed in the doorway.

"Alfred. You have visitor." says Yao quietly, silvery tone carrying through the air easily.

He almost snorts. Has the Jack been so reduced to delivering messages?

Or…

Has the Joker returned?

"Not now. I'm eating lunch." Alfred pouts, like a small child interrupted in the middle of an elaborate game of toy soldiers. "Tell them to come back later."

"I believe that you will find that he cannot be refused."

"I'm the King. I can do what I want."

Arthur can sense an oncoming tantrum, evidenced by the contrary edge rising in Alfred's voice.

Yao smiles, a smile of an indulgent parent at a spoiled child.

"Would you refuse your own brother?"

For the first time in five years, Arthur sees Alfred struck speechless.

* * *

**I find writing in this style kind of fun, and now that I have an actual plot (of sorts) I feel a little bit more secure. In other news: If you like FrUK, or drama, or FACE family, or anything I write, check out ****_In the Aftermath_****, the fic which has been the product of obsessive planning for a year.  
By the way, I swear I actually love Alfred. He is a precious baby. The same goes for all the other characters – no matter what horrible things I put them through in my writing.**


End file.
